


evermore: Avengers Collection

by Supreme_OverGnome



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Nostalgia, Romantic fluff i guess, messy relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supreme_OverGnome/pseuds/Supreme_OverGnome
Summary: Mini stories for each character, based mostly off songs in TSwift's new album, evermore. Some romance, some 'found-family' stuff, you get the gist. For the romance, I have written different ships for each person, because I believe that if you spend that much time in a group, you'll most likely have relationships with few off them. These are mostly in the same universe, if not i'll probably mention before.This first one is Steve/Bucky in their teenage years, from Bucky's pov (but in 3rd person).
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Thor, Howard Stark & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Other(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

**Author's Note:**

> Salut my little gnomelings! I have come from a far away fae realm to rule this people and write fanfic. This is the first work I have ever done, so please be kind (or I will banish you from my gnomedom).
> 
> Just a quick mention, this chapter is roughly based off the song 'willow' by TSwift. I recommend listening to it while or before you read.

The fireworks screeched playfully in the New York night, streaking across the Brooklyn sky like a shooting star. It’s exhilarating; Bucky thought as he craned his neck to look up. 

The festivities had lasted all day for the Fourth of July: America's birthday. Bucky was just one skinny teenager in the mass of people. The only difference was the fact he had a place to be: his best friend, Steve Rogers. Steve was taking care of his mother, who had gotten sick. Again. Bucky frowned at the thought of Steve trying to take care of her; Steve was just a teenager. 

A dame with pretty brown eyes walked past, glancing at Bucky. Perhaps the frown made him look brooding and mysterious. He almost got distracted, but tonight was not the night. 

He jogged through streets and eventually approached the worn-down apartment building Steve and his mother lived in. A tree grew in the garbage-filled lot next to the brown building, holding up strong in the midst of the dirty city. Strong like Steve, Bucky thought fondly.

Steve had always been a serious kid, ever since Bucky met him at school in the early thirties. Steve‘s solemn face spoke out to him from the groups of children playing at recess, and Bucky approached him with a childish boldness that Steve had probably never experienced before. They soon became fast friends.

But now, Bucky was starting to realize something. He’d never say anything out loud--he could barely think about it-- and he knew what happened to… those people. But Bucky had realized one thing: he loved Steve. Like, loved him. He definitely got distracted by the pretty dames walking and dancing at the clubs, but that was because dames are pretty. And he also couldn't exactly do anything about his feelings for Steve. He was a boy… and Bucky was a boy. 

Bucky wasn't worried. He would still spend most of his time with his best friend, because that was what Steve was very first: his best friend. And Bucky was good with that. He was perfectly satisfied with that. 

Bucky climbed the rickety fire escape. He knocked lightly on the window of Steve's room. He had memorized the grimy glass, so he could easily identify it, even in the dark. It helped that he had placed himself in front of that window so many times. He scrubbed at the window, peering in. Steve sat poised carefully on his bed, drawing in his notebook. He never let Bucky see his drawings, but Bucky knew he was good. He had seen some of Steve's eerily beautiful art because of course Bucky snuck a good peak when Steve was distracted. 

Bucky knocked again; maybe Steve didn’t hear him. Steve looked up abruptly, and Bucky waved excitedly. Steve glanced at his bedroom door. Always worried about his mother. Bucky understood, but sometimes it made him upset that Steve had so much responsibility. And maybe Bucky wanted more attention from him. Steve crept to the window and opened it. 

“Bucky, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, obviously.” Bucky grinned. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Wanna climb to the roof and watch the fireworks?” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows. 

Steve scrubbed his eyes, immediately brightening them with the prospect of excitement. It dulled suddenly. He was obviously thinking of his mother.

“C’mon, Steve. It'll be fun!” Bucky made a pouty face, pleading with his eyes. Steve gave an exasperated smile.

“Stop, stop. Fine, I’ll come.” He shoved Bucky away from the window. Steve glanced at his door one more time and then stepped easily out of the window onto the fire escape. Steve always seemed unhappy with how small he was compared to other guys their age, but Bucky honestly thought it just made Steve more graceful. All his movements were so careful and deliberate, like a mythical thing from those Irish stories Steve’s mother told them when they were younger.

“Lets’ go!” He walked slowly up the stairs, knowing if he went too fast, Steve would get tired trying to keep up. He didn’t want to make him feel too burnt out before watching the fireworks. 

When they reached the roof, another round of fireworks was in full blast. The air was full of bright streaks and cracks and booms. They sat down on the edge of the roof to see the fireworks better. There were groups setting them off close by.

“Look at that one, Bucky, it looks like a willow tree. I wonder if I could draw these...?” Steve trailed off, enchanted by the colors. Bucky knew by the look on his face, every bit of the explosives were a work of art. Steve always did that. He could look at the world and make it seem beautiful. He managed to romanticize the most basic things, and it turned Bucky’s whole world around. Steve made it seem like a chipped cup in his kitchen cabinet was filled with magical properties. It was incredible. He was incredible. 

“It’s incredible,” Steve said quietly. Bucky startled--he was just thinking that. But not about the fireworks. 

He looked down at Steve's hand, which was right next to his. He wanted to hold it. Bucky tore his face away. That was not the thought he wanted to have.

The fireworks closest to them started dying down, and others popped up around the city. Steve began talking, just little stuff about his day. He had been able to convince the baker to give him a burnt loaf of bread for free (Steve smirked, he was proud of his ability of persuasion. It was a gift) and, in doing so, gave Steve a chance to help the two kids that he had seen working in the lot grabbing metals and small trinkets to trade or recycle. Steve continued, saying he got extra hours, which made it possible to buy some extra food. He was able to feed both his mother and their elderly neighbor that they took care of a whole meal that night. And he also helped Johnny Creech (the local drunk) back into his apartment. And he defended a girl today from Jack Penny, a goon with no respect or brains, from being too handsy. The only reason Steve told this one was that she kissed his cheek after as a thank you. Steve looked very smug about it.

This wasn't the first time Steve had done something selfless. It seemed to Bucky like he was made up of moments of helping others. He fought bravely and often impulsively, and sometimes it scared Bucky. He knew how easily Steve could get hurt, being the kid with asthma he was. 

But Bucky knew how much Steve just cared. He was passionate. He always knew right from wrong, even in the hardest decisions. Aces, it amazed Bucky. Steve always bounced back, stronger, and more determined than before from all the battles he fought. Bucky knew he wanted to be a hero, and honestly, Bucky trusted him. He would follow Steve anywhere. 

Finally, when it was probably two in the morning, and the fireworks had died down and the voices of parties and celebrations had quieted to the murmur of the city, Steve began to sing. He started with patriotic songs, like America the Beautiful and The Star-Spangled Banner. But then he moved to his mother’s Gaelic lullabies.

Bucky leaned against the ledge Steve was sitting on. He gazed at Steve, listening to his clear voice rise as brightly and clearly as the fireworks.

Suddenly an overwhelming feeling came upon him. Like his heart was going to burst. I love him, Bucky thought. I love him so much. Tears pricked his eyes, and he looked away. He stared aggressively at the tree in the yard. The dark outline was his lifeline. He could pretend, and try to convince himself someone or something mattered more, but it just wasn't’ true. He loved Steve. But he’d have to pretend. Case closed. He would follow him anywhere because he would feel hollow without him. It would just seem like they were best friends. Yeah. Best friends. Because that's what they were first. 

Steve finished his song, and it almost seemed like the night sighed in contentment at the conclusion. 

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve smiled shyly. 

“I’m with you till the end of the line,” Bucky repeated the chorus of the song Steve had just finished. Steve grinned and looked out into the skyline. 

“That’s my favorite song.” 

“It’s a good song.” Bucky coughed to cover up his voice crack. Steve was still smiling, looking out peacefully. He turned and punched Bucky on the arm. 

“We gotta go to bed.”

“Yeah, sleep. Good idea.” And they retreated down the stairs.


	2. Champagne Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony meets a boy at college, and they seem to be getting along really well. But is Tony ready for commitment?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost rewrote this. Almost. But a magical elf by the name of SneakyToni convinced me otherwise. They also edited, which is fabulously generous of them.

Tony counted out loud as he played the chords on the piano. 

“One and two and three and four and.” As he grew more confident in his   
time-keeping, his voice died away and left his lips mouthing the counts. His tailored suit jacket lay in a small heap on the floor, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie hanging on his shoulders. The melody grew louder, more bold, full of emotion. He closed his eyes, his head nodding to the beat. And finally, the song ended. He opened his eyes, staring at the keys. He made a scale. Up, down, up. Down. He sighed. 

“I’m a terrible piano player. Should’ve practiced more, I guess.” He thought about standing up. Almost willing himself to move. But he stayed hunched over the fancy piano. 

“Rich kid problems. Champagne problems,” he muttered. He aggressively stood up, shoving the bench back and scooting as far away from the baby Grande like it was the plague. 

He walked to the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator doors. There was a bottle of half-empty wine, and-- 

“A pizza!” He opened the box and grabbed a slice, shoving the tip into his mouth. He thought about grabbing the wine but decided against it. He stalked to the garage, hitting the light. He slapped his tie onto a work chair. He grabbed a toolbox and shoved the crust of his pizza into his mouth, licking his fingers. 

Tony ran his fingers through his hair. He pressed a button on his portable radio. He cranked the volume, almost as high as it could go. The louder, the better. The quieter his thoughts were. He saw an oily rag. Hesitating for a second, he then grabbed it and rubbed it over his bare forearms and face. The smell comforted him, in a strange way. Then he got to work. 

*** 

“Mister Stark, I have your breakfast.” Jarvis’s arthritic hands shook as he gently closed the garage door. He smiled at Tony’s tired eyes and sweaty brow. 

“Thanks, Jarvis. Just put it on the table, I’ll get to it in a second.” He rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead. His project: a robotic hand. It seems to work, but it’s just a trinket anyway. Dad would think it’s useless, Tony thought. Jarvis paused at Tony’s sigh. He turned away from the work table, and slowly sat down on the work chair. He picked up the tie from the night before, folding it carefully in his lap. 

“Mister Stark. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” If it had come from anyone else, Tony would have immediately said no. Even his mom, unfortunately. But this was Jarvis. And Tony couldn’t lie to him, even if he tried. 

“Just kinda out of it, I guess.” He frowned, staring at the hand. Maybe if I added a different bolt, the fingers would flex better…? 

Jarvis shook his head. “Tony, you know what I mean.” Tony looked up. He hadn’t been called that by Jarvis since he was twelve. He reserved the nickname for special times. 

“Well, Jarvis. Looking at it logically, I have nothing wrong with my life. I’m considered a genius, a child progeny. I have loving parents and more money than I can handle. I have a bright future, all the love-life I could ever want.” 

“But?” 

Tony hesitated. Putting it into words seemed difficult. He was fine. Or at least, he should be.

“I don’t feel… happy.” There he said it. He waited for a moment, hoping by at least admitting it, it would make him feel completely fixed. It didn’t. 

“And what do you mean by that?” Jarvis asked, not unkindly. 

“I… I just. I…want. I just want to look at my life and be satisfied. I want to be content. But I don’t know how to do… that.” Jarvis looked at him over his glasses. He had been wearing them even more lately. Tony would have to ask him about his eyesight. He would see if he needed to make up some excuse to get Jarvis in the vicinity of an eye doctor. 

“What else?” Jarvis said quietly. 

Tony froze. Nobody was supposed to know. Cause if they knew, the scandal would be astronomical. His father might actually kill him this time. His mother would never recover. He glanced suspiciously over at Jarvis. He seemed so frail, even just sitting there. His face said he knew. Would he get in trouble? Tony didn’t know. But he couldn’t keep it in. 

“I… I have a boyfriend. Well, had. We broke it off last night. I think I did the right thing, but it still kinda hurts.” Tony looked at the concrete, scrutinizing it so he wouldn’t have to meet Jarvis in the eye. 

Jarvis tsked his tongue. “A forbidden love! Fabulous, my favorite kind. You know, my lovely wife and I were in a similar relationship. I committed treason for her, interestingly.” Tony jerked his head up in surprise. “Oh, yes, Mister Stark. You’re not the only one who has done something illegal in this family. And my best friend, Peggy Carter! She once had a girlfriend. Didn’t last long, because she was a Russian assassin who was really trying to kill her. Unfortunate, that. I am not surprised, my dear boy. I saw you with him a few times, but I have not told a single soul.” Tony’s eyebrows shot up. He blinked furiously. 

“Um. What.” 

“Oh yes,” Jarvis continued. He had gotten even more talkative in his old age. “Allow me to tell you some other stories about my friends some other time, but I do believe you were about to express your feelings to me. Tell me everything.” He smiled down at Tony. 

“Oh. Um. Okay.” Tony threw his rag onto the table and stretched out his legs. 

***

Ryan Rodriguez lived in the dorm room three doors down the hall from Tony. Tony wouldn’t have known that, except that Ryan had boldly approached Tony, and invited him to a party later that weekend. Tony probably would have shown up anyway (he never missed out on a party), but the direct invite had been a pleasant surprise. 

And at the party, when he usually would have gotten stone-cold drunk and then got home and created some knick-knack that would accidentally earn him another scholarship and a business deal, Ryan danced with him. And after that night, showed him the best way to make pizzelles. And then asked Tony to help him with his math homework because he was “so dumb and really needed his help”. And then stole some traffic cones from the highway. (Tony had done some illegal things, but for some reason, stealing those traffic cones had been the funniest thing he’d ever done). And while he worked in the workshop for an assignment due the next day, Ryan made six different types of coffee and painted his nails and talked. 

And their first kiss. Wow. Tony had kissed before (obviously), but this one was one of the top 6. 

This was a whole semester of impulsive romance. It was secret kisses next to a random Chevy in a parking lot, Ryan’s touch felt golden as he held Tony’s face in his hands. He almost wondered if Ryan had touched the vehicle and mistakenly turned it gold. It was talking in the workshop, distracting Tony almost as well as his loud music. It was watching movies and stuffing popcorn and pizza in their faces, drinking whatever fancy alcoholic drink Tony had stolen from his parents’ house. It was walking through the halls of the dorm house, and going to crazy parties. 

“This dorm is a madhouse!” Ryan once shouted to Tony at a party. Tony grinned.

“It’s made for me and you then,” he shouted back.

It was secret glances when they hung out with their group of friends. It was Tony shaving his face on a Saturday morning while Ryan flipped through a magazine on the bed. 

“Look, look!” He’d shout, pointing to a picture of and laugh hysterically at Tony’s disgusted face. 

It was amazing, and Tony enjoyed every second of it.

But he knew that he didn’t love Ryan. It was nice to be devoted to someone, and to have someone who was there to talk to. And he actually did like Ryan. But he knew his father would never approve. In fact, his father might straight-up murder his ass. Tony didn’t exactly want to die. And again. He didn’t love Ryan. 

Maybe he was a hopeless romantic, but he knew that he would KNOW when he had found the one. He wasn’t going to settle, as stupid as it was. 

It was still going well, so he invited Ryan to a gala his parents had planned. 

“It’s just my friend Ryan, Dad. He’s got connections,” he told Howard. Howard grunted and handed him a sparkly paper invitation. 

***

“Oh my gosh, Tony! It’s fabulous. And you... well.” Ryan smirked at Tony in his navy suit. Tony rolled his eyes. 

They made the rounds, Tony pretending like he knew the folks who fawned over him, and introducing them to his date. Or, ahem, schoolmate. After most had gotten buzzed, Ryan and Tony climbed the stairs into a room that was just private enough, usually used for other parties. They started slow dancing. This feels nice, Tony thought. Their hands were intertwined, and the music was faint enough he could hear his heartbeat. 

Suddenly, Ryan pulled away. 

“Tony. Listen. I know you might panic about this, but, I have to say something. I love you. Like actually. And,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a dulled gold ring. “I wanna be together. For like, real. I know, I know. We’re… But just in words. And for the rest of our lives. I love you.” He got on one knee. Well, Tony certainly panicked. He should have expected this. Should he have expected this? He pulled away, glancing at the doors. 

“Ryan, I…” Tony trailed off.   
Ryan looked up at him, uncertainty in his eyes. Tony’s mind flashed to the picture of them on the couch that Ryan kept in his wallet, the nail polish marks on the dorm walls from when he scared Ryan and made him jump, another picture of them holding hands, of dancing in a crowded dorm, knowing everyone was too stoned to notice their intertwined fingers. 

“Ryan, I… can’t,” Tony finally said. 

“Why?” he demanded. 

“I, uh,” he shoved his hands in his pockets. What could he say? Sorry, I don’t actually love you? “I… don’t know. I don’t have a reason.” He knew that was not a good thing to say because Ryan looked like he had been hit. 

“You… don’t know? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m sorry, Ryan. But no,” he said more confidently, even if it was a whisper. Ryan was silent. He stood up slowly. He reached out and grabbed Tony’s arm. 

“Tony, are you sure? I-- are you sure?” He fervently asked. Tony pulled away, gentler this time. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” And Tony walked out of the room. His heart was beating really fast. Like really fast. He sped down the stairs. He pushed guests out of the way, their glazed eyes looking at him judgmentally. He grabbed his coat and looked up at the top of the stairs. Ryan was looking down, crestfallen, obviously. He slipped the ring into his pocket. He met Tony’s eyes and nodded. Go, he was saying. It’s fine. Even though it really wasn’t. But Tony’s heart was beating so fast and his chest was really tight. He fled to the door and left for his parents house. 

Tony couldn’t decide if he wanted to walk through the bustling crowds of the city where people could see him for a little bit, or sit in a subway train, alone with his own thoughts. Stuck in his head. Yeah, no. Bustling crowds it is, he thought. 

Ryan would choose the quiet train, his brain told him. Be quiet, he said back. Ryan liked to sit in his feelings, feel them, and get back to life. Tony, on the other hand, stuffed them so deep inside they would hopefully get lost. Tony noticed that, annoyingly, his thoughts could still be heard even through the noise of the city. 

***

“There you go Jarvis, there’s my tale of woe.” Jarvis looked at him so sadly, and Tony wanted to cry. Stop, he told himself. You deserve this, you hurt him, you shouldn’t be crying. He scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Tony, I am so sorry.” Tony looked up. Jarvis looked hesitant, but then he opened his arms. Tony wasn’t a kid anymore, but he ran into Jarvis’ arms like it was a lifeline. 

“I love you, my dear boy. Always remember that,” he kissed the top of Tony’s head as Tony sobbed even louder. In the back of his head, Tony prayed that his father wasn’t home yet. 

After a minute, Tony’s sobs had died down, and he pulled away. Jarvis looked at him so kindly it almost made him start crying again. 

“Come on, Mr. Stark. Ana is making pasta, and she might need our help.” 

Tony nodded, and they walked into the house.


	3. rose blush, gold rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers and Tony Stark don't necessarily like each other. They have each other's respect, sure. But maybe a moment in a maintenance closet will get the ball rolling on how they actually feel about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some swearing in this, btw.
> 
> Challenge for you tho, go drink a glass of water. If you do it right now you get 30 Official Gnome points.

Steve didn’t like Anthony Stark. He didn’t like his stupid fluffy hair, he didn’t like his stupid smirk, he didn’t like his stupid ‘I don’t care’ persona, and he didn’t like the disrespect and sarcasm that oozed out of him, he didn’t like him at all. Nope. If Steve hadn’t fought next to him in the Battle of New York, he would’ve started a fight with the jerk. 

Tony was the kind of privileged person who started problems just because he was bored. And Steve HATED that. 

But he had to admit, Tony had his respect. Ever since he flew into the wormhole to save the entire city of New York, Steve had to admit that he had guts. 

“Good news!” Tony announced from his seat in the back of the room. He had been on his devices, not paying attention at all to Nick Fury, who was giving a synopsis of the aftereffects of the attack. Steve closed his eyes to stop his right eye from twitching. 

“Pepper said you guys can stay in the tower! It’s completely free and probably nicer than whatever the Pirate here has planned out. It’s suped-up nicely, and since we’re still in the process of renovating, ahem, again, you can add your own features.” Tony looked around at each team member. 

“Having a specific place to stay in Midgard is a wonderful idea. I appreciate the offer, Stark, and I accept,” Thor said, eating a multicolored pop tart, his feet on the table. Steve had tried a cinnamon sugar one, but spit it out immediately. He didn’t understand how Thor ate them by the box. Thor looked expectantly at Natasha, who was having a silent conversation with Fury with her eyes. 

“I think that’s a great idea, Tony. It’s a good way to build a better team dynamic,” Fury said finally.

Natasha’s eye twitched, but she forced a smile and nodded. Bruce looked uncomfortable, Clint was staring blankly into space (Steve doubted that his hearing aids were on), and the rest were staring at Steve, waiting for him to make his answer. He cleared his throat.

“I dunno. What if SHIELD needs me--” Tony clapped his hands on Steve’s shoulders. 

“C’mon, Uncle Sam, SHIELD can reach you easily at the tower. And besides, it’ll be fun.” Steve wanted to soooo badly throw his hands off his shoulders and punch him in his pretty-boy face. He instead just shifted uncomfortably. 

“I mean,” he glanced at Fury, who nodded ever so subtly. “Alright. I guess.” 

“Perfect! Banner? I’ve got all sorts of pretty tech…” Tony said enticingly, flashing pictures from his device at Banner. 

“You have a (he said some fancy futuristic machine)?!” Scratch that, modern machine. Steve often forgot that a lot of the impossible things from his pre-frozen years were now a reality. It was like everything was ‘the best thing since sliced bread!’ He zoned back into the conversation. 

“... And there will be plenty of different options just in case Big Green makes an appearance. For example…” Wow, Tony had it all pretty much planned out. He continued to geek out about all the fancy features he and his assistant (girlfriend?) had designed. Natasha kicked Clint from under the table, and he glared at her, shaken out of his reverie. 

Steve remembered when Bucky would hit him if he was getting too dreamy… Steve shook his head. He forgot, every day. To him, it still seemed like Bucky died two months ago. When in reality, he died over seventy years ago. At that moment, Steve really wished that his serum could heal emotional wounds as well as physical. 

Steve realized he was staring at Stark. He looked similar to Howard, but more down to earth. He kinda reminded him of Bucky, with fluffy brown hair, a square jaw, and a smirk, that when directed at Steve, made him feel like a million butterflies inhabited his stomach. Wait what. 

Steve shook his head. Geez, he really was acting like an old man, just like the team teased him about. Stuck in his head, thinking about the past. And… other stuff. 

“Cap, you alright?” Tony asked.

Steve almost had a heart attack, as if the others could hear his thoughts. 

“I’m great,” he smiled. “So, when do we move in?” 

***

Tony Stark didn’t like Steve Rogers. He didn’t like his deep blue eyes, his self-righteous personality, his lack of a sense of humor, he didn’t like his ‘You’re not supposed to do that’ vibe, and he didn’t like the looks he kept getting from the not-that-old-looking-old-man, he didn’t like him at all. Nope. If Tony hadn’t fought next to him in the Battle of New York, he would’ve started a fight with the stick-in-the-mud just for kicks and giggles. 

See, it all started in Tony’s childhood, where he heard more about his father’s admiration of the famed “Captain America” and less about how much Howard loved Tony. So yeah, constantly being compared to the first superhero was a little emotionally traumatic. It didn’t help that Tony was suddenly expected to get along with the man because they were a quote un quote “team”. Tony HATED the constant reminder that he still wasn’t good enough. And that’s what Steve was to him, a reminder. Which was part of the reason Tony invited him to come live at the tower. Maybe then, he could get used to the reminder, and move past it. Hopefully. 

“Welcome… to STARK Tower,” Tony announced grandly. He was proud of this thing, and he only hoped that maybe the team members would come to appreciate how amazing it really was. 

Natalie Rushman, the uber-annoying agent was looking around appreciatively. He could see the gears in her head working, where the best places to hide were, accessibility to windows, etc. Spy stuff.

Bruce Banner (who Tony had been geeking out about since he met him) was gazing in awe, scrutinizing in a different way. He was looking for tech and protection from the Hulk. Tony made a mental note to give Bruce the floor plans to make him feel more at ease in case he Hulked out. 

Thor waltzed in, scanned the room, and sat on the couch. He too was looking around, reading the area, but it was even more discreet than Nat. Interesting. Tony made another mental note to not underestimate the god. 

Clint looked bored, but his eyes brightened at the sight of the huge vents. 

“How big are those?” He asked. Tony raised an eyebrow. 

“Big enough for maintenance, I guess. Why do you ask?” 

“No reason,” Clint said, almost too quickly. Tony narrowed his eyes. 

“Okay…” He muttered. 

And then there was Steve. Stupid Steve, with his blond hair that fell into place like he was a Ken doll. He was looking around in awe as if he had never seen anything like it. Tony puffed up his chest and smirked. At least the old man was impressed. 

“Alright. I’d love to give you guys a tour of the whole building, but Pepper is making me go to a business meeting. So lovely Miss Potts here will show you around.” He motioned to his girlfriend, who was standing nearby. 

“Thank you, Tony,” She smiled. God, he loved her smile. “Now if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your individual rooms, which are just off the main team area…” her voice diminished as Tony walked away. 

2 MONTHS LATER

“Captain America! Captain America! What’s it like living with the Avengers? How do you feel about this modern world? Have you heard theories on the Winter Soldier?” 

“Thank you, paparazzi. But Cap here won’t be taking any questions because it’s game night and I want to try and beat him at Pictionary. So bye-bye now,” Tony grabbed Steve’s arm and steered him away from the swarms of people outside STARK Tower.

“Geez, Rogers, when I said it was your turn to make a quick grocery run, I’m pretty sure Clint said ‘pepperoni’ and not paparazzi.” 

Steve rolled his eyes but stayed silent. He never loved the attention from the media. He much preferred the actual people, like when he got to sign autographs for little kids. He looked sideways at Tony. I wonder if he’s good with little kids? Steve thought. He pictured Tony holding a smiling little brown-haired boy and almost caught himself smiling. He was often thinking about Tony. Which was annoying at first, but because he couldn’t help it, Steve tended to just let the thoughts glide by and try to ignore them for the most part. Because when he tried to smother them, they only got worse. 

“Rogers? Rogers?” Tony was waving a hand in front of Steve’s face. He looked concerned. It was a good look on him. Kinda cute. 

Steve grabbed Tony’s hands and pushed them to Tony’s side. 

“I’m fine, Stark. Really. Just zoned out, I guess.” Tony didn’t look convinced, but he left him alone. They walked to the elevator in silence, the only sound was the swishing of grocery bags. 

When they got to the elevator (an extravagant thing with fancy buttons and lined with carpet), Tony finally spoke. 

“By the way, Fury wants us to go to a gala. Publicity stuff, and he wants us there because we’re kinda the leaders, I guess,” He made air quotes. “Pepper is making me go. So um, do you have a suit? Like a tuxedo? Cause I can get you one easily if you don’t have one, and Pepper has planned a whole thing about--” Steve stopped giving his full attention after that. A gala, hm? He didn’t really want to go to that. And with Stark? A tuxedo? Steve laughed internally at the picture of his bulky body stuffed into a penguin looking costume. On a deeper level, he realized that when Tony was nervous, he tended to ramble. To others it made him appear smart and outgoing. To Steve it just made him seem really anxious, like, ninety percent of the time. Knowing that made Steve feel a little smug. He wondered if Pepper had realized that. Shut up, he told himself. Pepper is Tony’s girlfriend. Of course, she’d know everything about him. Of course, they have deep intimate conversations but also joke around and look into each other’s eyes and--

“... anyway, will you come?” Tony had avoided eye contact the entire time he spoke, but as he finished his rambling, he looked Steve right in the eyes. 

“Sure, Tony. I’ll come. But I don’t think I’ll like it that much.” He marched out of the elevator, plastic bags swinging.

Ugh! What was he thinking, saying that?! Obviously, the party itself wouldn’t be that fun, but with Tony, it might actually make it more enjoyable. But of course, Steve had to say something stupid and now Tony probably thinks that Steve hates him. You’re a dumbass, his brain told him. He didn’t disagree. 

Tony muttered something about hating it too (and Steve mentally smacked himself), and they moved to the kitchen to put food in the fridge. 

***

Tony didn’t want to bring it up. Originally, he was going to have Pepper ask about it. He didn’t really want to go to the freaking thing anyway. But the walk into STARK Tower was so quiet. Tony liked loud music, loud talking, loud noises to distract him. Or, complete silence. But he didn’t have that luxury. He was surrounded by awkward silence. He didn’t like that at all. The rubbing of the bags, the almost synchronized breaths, the whisper of shoes on the floor? Nope nope nope Tony didn’t like that. So he said it. He told Steve about the gala. 

Which wasn’t so bad, because Steve ended up saying yes anyways. But still. Tony felt like their relationship was getting nowhere. Steve didn’t trust him. And frankly, he didn’t trust Steve either. Tony could read him pretty easily. He was about as two-dimensional as the Captain America pictures on Howard’s desk after all. But every once in a while Cap would get a weird look on his face, especially around Tony. Frankly, it made him uncomfortable. 

And then Steve had to go and say he wouldn’t enjoy it. I mean, I can’t blame him, Tony thought. But it still hurt. Childhood hero turned team member Steve Rogers thought his time was wasted with Tony. Just like my dad, Tony thought bitterly. 

***

Glasses clinked and the murmur of people buzzed in Steve’s ears. He followed Tony around like a puppy, talking rarely. Steve tried not to dwell on how uncomfortable he was or how pathetic he felt. On the bright side, he got to see Tony in a suit. The rose gold of the ballroom aesthetic looked very good on him. 

Tony was so good at this “public appearance” thing. Probably because it had been his life. It was impressive how effortlessly Tony made small talk, making people feel at ease in his presence. 

“C’mon, let’s go find a bathroom,” Tony murmured, shoving Steve a little to the left so he wouldn’t run into an extremely loud couple. 

As they got closer to a marbled bathroom, Tony suddenly shoved Steve around a corner. 

“Shit, shit, shit, double shit.” 

“What? Tony, what is going on?”

“Be quiet!” Tony peaked over the corner, got visibly paler, and shoved Steve over to a maintenance closet, opened the door, and pushed him inside. 

“Tony? For the love… what is going on?” 

“Shut up!” Tony had his ear shoved up against the door. Steve could barely make out his face with the small amount of light coming from the crack below the door. 

There were some clacking heels that paused ominously. But they faded soon after. Tony collapsed against the door. 

Steve’s eyes widened. This closet was really small, and he and Tony were really close. Steve had to physically restrain himself from breathing in deep to smell Tony’s cologne. 

“Oof. That was close.” Tony glanced at Steve. Steve started laughing. 

“You were so scared!” He said, wheezing. 

“Yeah, yeah. Real funny, “ Tony said, but he grinned. 

Steve gained control of his laughter, but he was still smiling. 

“What was that about anyway? Some dame bothering you?” 

Tony rolled his eyes. 

“I guess you could say that. Reporter, blonde, from Arkansas. Spent two nights together, but only because she wanted to get dirt on me. Almost got away with some stuff too. Luckily Jarvis shut my systems down before she hacked it all. But she’s been stalking me ever since, trying to get more on me. She’s psycho.” 

“Fair enough,” Steve said, still smiling. They both reached for the door handle, and their hands brushed. 

***

Tony ran like hell. Clara Burlingten was psycho and he was not in the mood tonight. So did he end up shoved next to Steve in a maintenance closet? Yes. And then for some crazy reason, Steve started laughing. 

“You were so scared!” He doubled over from laughing. Tony was kind of shocked. But in a good way. Steve had a good laugh. It was kind of contagious. And it was all going well. Maybe a little weird, but okay. 

And then they touched hands. Oh shit, Tony thought. He looked at Steve. He was… blushing? Like hardcore. His whole face was red. 

“Are you blushing?” Tony asked bluntly. He was astounded. Captain America? Getting nervous? It was unheard of. 

“No,” Steve said quickly. Almost too quickly. 

Tony regarded him warily. And then he slowly grinned an evil smile. 

“Yes, you are.” 

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, buddy, I think you are.” 

“No, I’m not!” 

“Yes! You are!” 

The door shot open, and there stood the devil herself. Clara Burlingten. She smiled maliciously. 

“Tony Stark in the closet with another man. How very apropos,” She said sweetly. And her phone’s camera flashed. Tony’s mind blanked. He panicked. He didn’t know what to do. But then Steve stepped forward. 

“Hello, Miss…?” 

“Clara Burlingten, Mister Rogers.” She smiled so sickly sweet Tony wanted to puke. 

“Miss Burlingten. I don’t know what you are insinuating about Tony and I,” He motioned to Tony and himself. “But I can promise you it is nothing of notice. So if you’d please delete that photo, we can all be on our way.”

Oh, poor Steve. Poor, endearingly stupid, righteous Steve. Tony knew Clara wouldn’t delete that photo if her life depended on it.

“Captain America!” She giggled. “Very bold of you to presume I would delete this photo. I will not get rid of it in any circumstance, unless you can provide me with a better one?” She raised her eyebrows. 

Steve looked so frustrated. He obviously thought Clara would think the same way he did. If something was wrong, you didn’t do it. 

“Very sweet of you to defend your boyfriend, though,” Clara said. 

Steve and Tony both stiffened. But then Steve relaxed. He turned to Tony, one eyebrow raised cockily. 

“Do you trust me?” He mouthed out of sight of Clara. Tony nodded, not really realizing what he was trusting Steve about. 

Then Steve’s mouth was on Tony’s. Very gentle; it was a very kind kiss. Tony didn’t really know what to do, so he kissed back. Steve wasn’t the best of kissers, but for some reason Tony enjoyed it. 

Steve pulled away. He magically had Clara’s phone in his hand. He must have snatched it when she pulled it out to take a picture of their kiss. He threw it on the ground, stomped on it, swept it up into his hands, and threw it to Tony in one fluid motion. 

“Dismantle it.” 

Clara shrieked and scrambled to reach Tony, but Steve held her back. He began escorting her out of the hallway. 

“I’m sure Stark Industries will compensate for your phone. Leave or I’ll call the authorities for harassment. Thanks!” He said cheerily, pushing her out the door. 

Steve jogged back to Tony, who had just finished dismantling the phone. 

“That was great! I can’t believe she fell for that,” Tony said quickly. Steve looked nervous. 

“Listen Tony. I usually ask permission before I kiss someone, so I’m sorry for being so… abrupt. I hope it’s okay. Again, I’m sorry,” he scuffed his shiny dress shoe on the floor. He was blushing furiously again. Tony grinned. 

“Are you kidding? That was amazing! She didn’t expect it at all, and I bet there are a bunch of other incriminating photos of people on here. And as for the kiss,” Tony shrugged. “It wasn’t half bad.” 

Steve smiled. 

“Alright then.” 

“Let’s not tell the team about this.”

“Good idea.” 

***

“Jarvis, delete file 3 of Miss Burlingten’s photos.”

“As you wish, sir.” 

Tony sipped his mug of coffee. A bunch of photos flashed on the screen, all permanently deleting. The screen paused on a photo of him and Steve. 

“What about this photo of you and Mister Rogers, sir? Should we keep or delete?” 

Tony thought a second, his finger tapping his chin. 

“Keep. Put in ‘A little unspoken thing’ album.” 

“As you wish, sir.” And Tony smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asking for consent is hot. -Steve Rogers


End file.
